I sit here and read this article and had to share. Why do I have a passion for fishing? Below is why to some degree it’s hard to explain but this article got real close to it. It reminds me of Eagle River and Spring Lake right behind our house and the cabin in Rhinelander and Grandpa and Grandma’s farm pond soooo many great memories with fishing hard to imagine not doing it..…. I just had to share… Don’t skim this read it and soak it in folks this is what makes an outdoors man/women who they are.

He is the first fish I ever caught. He was, as my grandfather put it, just two eyes and a bunghole. So what? A 200-pound tarpon couldn’t make its captor one bit happier than that three-fingers-size fish made me nearly 60 years ago.
He appeared on my plate at dinner that evening, the flesh lovingly picked from his brittle bones by my mother. I was instantly transformed. I had become a four-year-old outdoorsman, putting meat on the family table.
We became fast friends, this fish and I. We often shared school-time Saturdays and summer afternoons at the little lake behind my house. He lived there. I was allowed to visit, provided I always told Mom where I was going. Back then mothers seldom feared for their offspring’s’ lives when they were out of sight. The lake and the fish were safe and wholesome company.
I was winding down my fourth-grade school year when the fish first landed me in trouble, the first of many times he has gotten me grounded or otherwise punished.
“Any last-week tests tomorrow?” my grandfather asked.
“Why?” I queried.
“I’m driving’ down to River Styx in the morning’,” he said. “Thought you might like to come along.”
“No sir! No tests!” I was quick to reply.
Next day we floated River Styx and caught the fish. He was bigger now, as was I. The small lake behind our house could no longer hold us.
Back home that night the phone call came. Why, asked teacher, was Bobby not in school for his final arithmetic test?
“Yes, why?’ wondered Mom and Dad.
Before you ask, reader, yes it was. Most certainly worth it. You can make up tests and get over spankings. Not so with grandfather/grandson fishing trips. I went to sleep smiling, dreaming of sinking corks, bobbers and frenzied tugs on my fishing line.
The fish has gotten me through some tough times, most notably periods of loss, everything from fickle childhood girlfriends to the permanent void left by departed loved ones. Somehow the fish helped me cope. Even today grief is somehow easier to handle with a fishing pole in one’s hands. The fish, and where he lives, never fails to put me nearer to God and comfort, even when I’m not fishing.
The fish has helped me forge great friendships. He was there when Troy and I were the best of grade-school buddies. He figured mightily in the good times Jimmy and I once had sitting on the bank of the Chattahoochee, drowning hapless crickets and swapping lies. He fried up golden brown over open campfires as Keith, Shane, and I planned great things, back when the world, and we ourselves, were young.
Today this fish is a welcome change now and then, a pleasant respite from chasing big largemouth bass and big stories on big water in big boats. My, oh my. How wonderful to briefly leave the camera and recorder behind in favor of a cage full of crickets, a reel of line, and a pocketful of #10 hooks.
When that happens it all comes back. My grandfather, my four-year-old grin, a missed exam, good friends, and wonderful memories!!!!!
And, of course, happiness. Sublime otherwise unattainable happiness. All because of one fish. The bluegill which started it all!!

Thanks RC!

good read

Brought a tear to my eye. Thanks for sharing.

Thanks RC. That really hits home for me. My "fish" was my best buddy growing up and I look forward to renewing that friendship in my old age.

Yes he was mine as well. It's it funny how these little creatures helped form the memories and friendships that they have. I was hunting this last weekend out in the woods enjoying the stillness. At about 8:15 I had a big boy step out on me unfortunately he was a bit to far away for my Muzzle Loader, but as the morning sun beamed off of him and he stuck his head up in the air I was in utter enjoyment at just getting the chance to see him in the scope for about 15 seconds as he proudly walked his way. Just like the amazing fish the deer is truly a awesome creation that I don't take lightly when I hunt for them.... We on this Earth have been truly blessed and some folks don't even know it.....



RC

RC, you need to switch to a Savage Muzzleloader or a Remington but either needs to be converted to .45 caliber with a Pac-Nor barrel. That way a deer won't (usually) be too far away any more. You have up to (roughly) 400 yds of range. (195 grain .40 caliber bullet moving around 2900 fps is possible)

Boy oh boy, I could have used a savage on my N. Mexico Elk hunt. I chased a Hugh Bull for several days, I had him real close one foggy morning but never had a shot. Then had him with 6 cows at 300 yds. I had trained my hunting skills for two hundred yds with the Pro Hunter. The savage u speak of is a hard one to find, been looking for one at gun show and etc for years. And as far as fishing, the Sand Bass on Texhoma got me started at or around 6 yrs old, fishing with my mom and dad. Today, I will set at the ponds edge for hrs at a time (just setting there and taking it all in) and I have never been one to set anywhere for that long.